


hold my hand (deprave me softly)

by StrangePhenomenonAfterDark (IncognitoPhenomenon)



Category: Lustful Desires
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Muscles, No Beta'ing We Die Like Men, POV Multiple, Touch-Starved, Touching, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoPhenomenon/pseuds/StrangePhenomenonAfterDark
Summary: Logan doesn't know what he wants. Nevar helps.
Relationships: Nevar | Male Player (Lustful Desires)/Logan (Lustful Desires), Player (Lustful Desires)/Logan (Lustful Desires)
Kudos: 10





	hold my hand (deprave me softly)

**Author's Note:**

> Horrible unbeta'ed. Chapter 2 smut... some day.

_the lumberjack feels like he’s drowning, and he struggles futilely against the depths, arms waving for someone to find him._

_there is no hand that reaches out to grab for his and pull him up._

* * *

_Am I insane,_ is the first thing he thinks when the full reality of what he’s doing comes bearing down on his mind. The reality that is him, dragging Nevar _(idiotic, persistant, irritating, nuisance,_ stayed) into his room at the sawmill, locking the door behind him, and.

Holding him by his hands. Placing them in the air between them. Looking, knowing his pupils are full of a confused desperation, straight into the other man’s eyes.

And where his course palms and fingers meet and hold Nevar’s, calloused but smaller, all of it _burns._

“Tell me what I want,” he croaks out, finally.

Nevar stares at him. In the dim, soft moonlight, his expression is almost unreadable. His eyes are gazing into him, though. Logan knows that, in the other man’s mind _(reckless, hypocritical, unbearable,_ caring), he must be thinking. Wondering. Trying to understand what this desperate, foolhardy, almost _silly_ question must mean, coming from _Logan_ of all people.

It only takes a moment. For anyone else, it would have been longer. For anyone else, it would have been never. Because anyone else would have already left, ran, and never looked back. 

But not him. Couldn’t be him. Not the herbalist’s apprentice. Not when he had already done the impossible for the pitiful man that had hauled him out from the street.

“What you want,” Nevar repeats in a soft, almost reverential tone. “I don’t know.” He stops there, tilting his head, as if inciting him to go on.

“Then.” Logan bites his lip. His teeth dig into the pink muscle, drawing blood. “Help me. Help me know.”

“Okay.” And he does.

Nevar’s hands twitch, resisting Logan’s hold. He relaxes, and they escape the grasp, only for them to wrap around them in return. 

Logan nearly jerks at the gentle feeling of Nevar massaging his hands in a rhythmic motion, stroking at the back from the tips of his phalanges down to his wrist and back up again, and his thumbs rubbing into the folds of his palms.

The lumberjack manages a soft _“oh,”_ and outright chokes when Nevar moves onto his arms, feeling and rubbing into his forearms. 

Nevar moves closer, expression carefully neutral, as he explores with his fingers, kneading the lumberjack’s muscles.

He stops, though, at the base of his sleeves. Logan barely holds back a shout ‒ _why’d you stop?_ ‒ instead choosing to dig his teeth into his lip. Blood trickles down his chin and beard, smelling faintly of metal and thirst to Logan’s nose. The other man prods at his sleeves again, while sending him a gesture with his eyes. 

It’s almost pitiful how quickly Logan peels his flannel off him. There is a flare of shame in his chest when his clothes fly off him and hit the floor, but it almost instantly dissipates when Nevar puts his hands on his chest and Logan’s entire body _buckles._

Logan does not say anything. He does not comment, he does not bite his tongue, he does not spit out something vile, he does not even breathe. Because from every spot Nevar touches, Logan feels a _fierce_ ache, an agonizing _want_ satisfied in an instant. His flesh is silently screaming in a pleasure barely ever known.

They travel along the forefront of Logan’s body, sculpted muscles that he, somewhere buried under his euphoria, feels he is proud of. And _oh,_ how those hands _move,_ caressing but never teasing. His skin is bursting with goosebumps, thousands of nerve endings glowing alight at the sensation. 

How could another man’s touch feel so good, Logan doesn’t know. But he wants to. He wants to know, even as a part of him screams obscenities and wants it to stop because it is _wrong,_ but how could this be _wrong,_ in any way? When all it is is _bliss?_

He could not imagine Bernard doing this. Or Hayden. Or Rose. Or ‒ even Serena. Only Nevar, it seems, that he very much feels, no, _wants,_ to let do this _(depraved, inglorious, shameful,_ rapturous) act on his flesh.

But why? Why, why, why. Is it because he’s a _(vile, disgusting, monstrous,_ unjudged) werewolf, now? His moon-given, moon _-cursed_ senses, magnifying _everything?_

And ‒ the other man’s smell. The scent of Nevar is filling the room, the scent of potions, of a warm bed, of _Nevar,_ that is indescribable, is everywhere.

It, along with the man’s touch, is driving him _mad._ The beast inside is roaring, and‒ 

Nevar’s hands are on his shoulders, now, and he knows this not because he sees it, but because the soft pressure of fingers digging into his skin pulls him out of his brief mania. He’s gasping for breath, lungs breathing rapidly. How long has he been like that?

“Logan,” the man asks. He places a thumb on his throat, stroking Logan’s Adam’s apple, and it sends _electricity_ coursing through him. “Is that what you wanted?”

 _“Yes,"_ he all but screams. But then‒ “wait, _no._ No. It’s not enough.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t‒ 

Nevar places a hand on his chin, fingers wiping away at the dried blood in his beard. Static runs along his jawline. “Is this what you want?” 

“No,” he says, because it _isn’t enough._

Nevar lifts his chin up, and their eyes meet once more. His head leans forward, upward, into the space between them‒ 

_“Wait._ Wait.” That part of him takes hold of the reins and of Nevar’s face, so close to his _(burning,_ bliss, _agony,_ elysium). “This is. Fucking‒”

There is a sad look in the way Nevar furrows his eyes. “Disgusting? Then what was that before?”

“I‒” And Logan does not have a response. Only, “because.”

“Because. Because what?”

“Because… I don’t know. I can’t ‒ this can’t be ‒ what I want‒” his throat closes up.

The other man… considers him. Logan hyper focuses on Nevar’s expression, every wrinkle, every fold, every minute movement of a twitching muscle on his face, and he realizes that he’s already memorized everything about them. 

“I don’t think it’s wrong.” Then, “I don’t think it… _has_ to be wrong.”

Silence. His mouth is agape, because… he’s right.

_Why does it have to be, if‒_

A tilt of the head, eyelids slowly closing.

_If this is‒_

Heat rushing to fill his cheeks, sweat dripping from his forehead, as the distance is quickly filled.

_If it feels so‒_

His lips finally on Nevar’s.

_‒good?_

It’s rough. It’s a frenzy of tongue and lips, and it’s also so very _awkward_ , but it doesn’t matter. Their noses bump once, twice, thrice, and their mouths separate to stop to breath for air once, twice, thrice, foreheads still touching, as he continues messily smashing and locking their mouths together _(hot, warm, burning,_ buzzing), tasting every single bit of Nevar he can get himself on. He grabs him by the shoulders, Nevar’s hands on his hips _(yes, yes, yes)_ , feet dancing in a backward run as Logan just about nearly smashes his partner into the wall.

“Is‒” Nevar gasps, face twisted into something that brings Logan so much _delight_ to see. “Is this… what you want?”

“I need more,” Logan answers. “More than this. More, I think‒ know.”

“Then, what is‒” Nevar chokes. Nevar’s thigh suddenly _thrusts_ into the space below his groin, heat blossoming all around from the area, as if by newfound lust. Logan finds himself desperate to repeat the gesture in kind. “Wh… what... is it?”

Logan doesn’t answer, not yet, still licking and kissing Nevar’s (stupid fucking _amazing loving)_ face and his neck and the space between his throat and shoulders, teeth brushing against the soft skin (oh, that was the wolf inside, but Nevar doesn’t care, may even want it).

“G-go ahead,” Nevar finally allows, and Logan _bites_. 

The sound of Nevar’s moans is pure _ecstasy_ to Logan’s ears, sending trills down his neck. Logan curls his arms around the other man tight, holding him closer to him. He relishes in the feeling of Nevar’s body so close against his, heat emanating from every single point of contact. 

_“Logan,”_ Nevar moans, and Logan could bark with joy.

“Tell me,” Logan says, his hands travelling across Nevar’s back as Nevar’s hands travel lower and lower and into the bands of his work pants. “Tell me what I want.”

“Hah. Haah, n-not yet.” A growl escapes his throat — _goddammit_ — but Nevar continues. “I, I have a question for you, first, _oh_ fuck,” Nevar breathily rebutts as Logan grips the other man’s hips tight, mirroring his hands on his own that have already managed to loosen his pants to his thighs.

“What is it?”

“Do you love me?”

A pause.

The answer comes very quickly. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess, doesn’t _doesn’t._

And he smiles.

 _“Yes,”_ Logan all but shouts, for only the two of them to hear. “Yes, yes, _yes_ , I love you. I fucking _love you.”_

_(You saw through me. You saved my life. You stayed with me. You sunk with me._

_You loved me,_ despite _me, because you knew me and thought,_

_I love you.)_

“Then I know what you want. _Me.”_

And‒

“Logan, I’m yours.”

And there was nothing holding Logan back from taking what he wanted.

* * *

_the lumberjack feels like he’s drowning, and he struggles futilely against the depths, arms waving for someone to find him._

~~_there is no hand that reaches out to grab for his and pull him up._ ~~

_a hand finds his, and drags him up and out from the down under, and_ stays.


End file.
